CD 


BANCROFT 
LIBRARY 

<* 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


COPIED  FROM  EVERYBODYT    MAGAZINE 
MAY  -  1S>1  e 


^ 
• 

! 


INTO  MEXICO 


LINCOINiSTEFFENS 


WAKE  UP 
AMERICANS* 

DO  NOT   BE   DE- 
CEIVED   BY  THOSE- 
WHO  ARE  HEARTLESS- 
LY  USING  THEIR    UT- 
MOST EFFOP-TS     TO 
THRUST   US    INTO     A 
DISASTROUS     AND 
SHAMEFUL-  WAR.  WITH 
THE.  PEOPLE  OF  MEXICO. 
WITH  THE  BASELY  SELF' 
ISH  AND  UNJUSTIFIED 
PURPOSE  OF  ENHANCING 
THE  VALUE  OF  THEIR, 
INTEREST  IN  OUR  SISTER 
REPUBLIC. 

OUH>  MOTTO  SHOULD 
BE-~PE£VCE,  UNION  AND 
FRIENDSHIP"  WITH  ALL  THE 
LATIN  AMERICAN 

COUNTR1E.S. 


SAN  FRANCISCO,     CAL. 

COURTESY  EVERYI30DY5  MAGAZINE 


t 

f 
t 

0 


MAY  1916 


VOLUME  XXXIV 


INTO  MEXICO  AND  ~  OUT! 

BY  LINCOLN  STEFFENS 

COR    five  months   Mr.   Steffens    has   been   traveling   in   Mexico  with 
Carranza.     EVERYBODY'S  readers  know  Steffens.     He  is  an  expert 
and  seasoned  reporter.     His  record  in  digging  the  truth  out  of  complicated 
situations  gives  this  article  added  authority  and  value.     THE  EDITOR. 

fi— ni—4HE  oldest  American  in  Vera  Cruz,  Mexico,  was  frightened  and 
he  was  glad  when  we  got  the  news  that  the  American  troops 
were  to  cross  the  Mexican  border  in  pursuit  of  Villa. 

•*^-  "At  last!"  he  breathed,  his  eyes  alight.  "How  we  have  prayed 
for  it,  ached  for  it,  petitioned,  pulled — plotted  for  intervention.  And  now, 
at  last,  it  has  come.  Thank  God!" 

Then  he  looked  all  around  us,  and  he  paled. 

We  were  standing  on  the  after-deck  of  the  Ward  liner  Monterey,  which 
lay  loading  at  her  dock,  about  to  sail  for  New  York.  I  was  "going  home;" 
my  friend  was  seeing  me  off.  It  was  March  eleven,  a  hot,  tropical  day,  and 
the  solid  old  Spanish  city  swam,  like  an  inspired  black  and  white,  in  the 
saturating  sunshine.  The  only  colors  that  held  their  own  were  the  sil- 
vered blue  of  the  harbor  waters  in  front  and  the  gilded  fringe  of  high  palms 
behind  the  low-built  town.  Ordinarily,  there  would  have  been  no  sounds 
either,  and  no  movement;  Vera  Cruz  should  have  been  asleep;  but  this 
was  "sailing-day."  The  Mexicans 
swarmed  the  decks,  the  docks,  and 
the  square — the  great  square  where, 
not  two  years  before,  the  American 
marines  had  landed  upon  that  other 
"intervention"  —  the  invasion  that 
was  not  intervention.  And  that  is 
what  the  oldest  American  was  seeing. 

"This  one  isn't  like  that  one,  is 
it!"  he  exclaimed.  "It  can't  be,"  he 
hoped.  "This  must  be  the  real 
thing.  And  that  was  bad  enough." 

He  was  ashore  then,  too,  an  enemy 
among  his  friends,  the  people  his 


THERE    IS 

A      GREAT 

DANGER     IN 

MEXICO. 


Copvrif/it,  1916,  by  Tht  Kidfwa}/  Company  in  the  United  Stata  and  Greta  Britain. 


people  were  attacking,  and  he  had  told  me  often  of  the  things  he  had  seen 
and  heard,  hoped  and  feared,  at  "the  occupation." 

"They  don't  know  this  news  yet?"  he  said,  with  a  nod  at  the  busy  crowds. 

"No,"  I  reminded  him,  "it  came  by  wireless  to  us  Americans  only." 

He  laughed  nervously.  "You're  lucky  to  be  out  of  it,"  he  said,  and, 
shaking  my  hand  again,  he  went  smiling  down  the  gang-plank.  A  popular, 
familiar  figure  there,  he  greeted  and  was  greeted  by  all  sorts  and  conditions 
of  Mexicans,  who  smiled  back  intimately  at  him.  But  he  hurried,  he  seemed 
almost  to  duck  out  through  that  mass  of  friendly  workers  and  masters. 

He  had  cause  to  duck.  He  knew — all  Americans  resident  in  Mexico  know 
— the  hate,  the  watchful,  waiting  hate  of  the  Mexican  for  the  American. 

"Hate  you?"  said  a  wild  young  Mexican  officer  to  me  one  day  on  a  troop- 
train.  "The  Mexican  hate  for  you  Gringos  would  put  joy  into  the  su- 
preme passion  of  rape,  fire  into  the  flames  of  arson,  virtue  into  robbery, 
and  a  crown  of  glory  on  death  and  defeat  at  war  with  you." 

When  I  laughed  in  the  face  of  his  hate  and  remarked  that  it  was  too  well- 
expressed  to  be  deeper  than  his  mind,  he  choked:  "Both,  both  with  our 


EVERYBODY'S 

MAGAZINE 

534 


PAINTED  BY 

HARVEY 

DUNN 


heads  and  our  hearts,  THEY  DREW 
we  hate  you."  OUR  WATCH- 

"Yes,"    said    a    thoughtful  ™<*  w^Ty 
member  of  Carranza's  cabinet  INTO    MEXI- 
circle,  "there  is  hatred  among  co  AFTER  A 
us  for  you,  and  it  is  dangerous;  "BANDIT." 
as  a  prejudice  it  is  very  danger- 
ous.   But  also  it  has  reasons  for 
being,  and  the  reasons  can  be 
reasoned  with — and  in  time  re- 
moved.   If  there  be  time." 
True.     The  enm'ity  in 
Mexico  against  "the  Colos- 
sus of  the  North,"  as  they 
call  the  United  States,  is  all 
sorts  of  hate  held  by  all 
sorts  of  people  there.    It  is 


INTO  MEXICO 
AND^OUT! 

535 


X 


MITE 


reasonable  and  unreasonable;  it  is  thought  and  felt;  it  is  open-eyed  and  it  is 
blind;  it  is  suspicion  and  experience.  It  is  racial,  religious,  economic,  and  it 
is  historical.  We  did  take  away  from  Mexico  Texas,  New  Mexico,  California 
—the  whole  of  our  great  Southwest;  and  their  school  histories  tell  their  story 
of  it;  and  their  story  is  one  of  good  American  excuses  to  cover  a  bad 
slaveholder's  conspiracy  with  traitorous  Spanish  and  Mexican  aristocrats. 

True  or  false,  they  believe  their  story.  And  they  see  that  the  Americans 
in  Mexico,  typically,  and  the  Americans  along  the  border,  and  some  other 
Americans — practically  all  the  Americans  the  Mexican  people  know  or 
know  about — belonged  to,  thrived  with,  and  liked  the  old  Diaz  regime,  and 
are  openly  or  secretly  against  the  Mexican  revolutionary  movement.  They 
think  that  the  American  ambassador,  Henry  Lane  Wilson,  was  in  the 
plot  to  overthrow  and  kill  Madero,  the  prophet  of  their  revolt.  They  know 
that  leading  Americans,  with  other  foreigners,  were  with  and  for  Huerta, 
the  military  autocrat,  and,  failing  him,  are  asking  now  for  Villa,  or  any 
other  "strong  man,"  like  Diaz,  like  a  czar,  like  an  American  boss — any  ty- 
rant that  will  put  down  the  Mexican  people,  make  them  go  back  to  work 
for  American  and  other  masters.  They  may  need,  but  they  don't  want, 
the  American  boss  system  in  politics  and  the  rushing  American  .industrial 
organization  which  turns  out  a  few  rich  and  many  poor.  That's  what 
they  are  fighting  against.  They  have  other  ideals,  and,  better  or  worse, 
they  prefer  theirs.  We,  sure  of  the  superior  excellence  of  ours,  we  con- 
tinue to  thrust  ours  upon  them — our  ideals,  our  ideas,  our  virtues,  and  also 
(as  they  see)  our  vices,  and  our  methods,  and  our  corruption;  and  all  for 
their  good.  This  is  the  height  of  our  offending:  our  philanthropy. 

"If,"  said  a  Mexican  statesman  to  me  at  Eagle  Pass  last  fall,  "if  you 
Americans  would  look  across  the  border  there  and  say  that  Mexico  is  a  rich 
country  and  beautiful,  and  that  you  covet  it;  that  we  Mexicans  are  a  weak 
people  and  you  are  strong;  and  that,  therefore,  you  are  going  to  come  over 
and  take  Mexico — we  could  understand  that.  We  would  fight,  and  we 
would  probably  die,  but  we  wouldn't  hate  you  so  much." 

WE  DIDN'T  know  that  day  in  Vera  Cruz  that  Villa  had  given  a 
good  excuse  for  this  second  invasion  of  Mexico.  The  news  that 
the  bandit  had  raided  into  New  Mexico,  reached  Southern  Mexico 
later.  And  it  was  still  later  when  it  became  known  there  that  Carranza 
had  consented  to  the  invasion  on  an  agreement  with  our  Government  under 
which  either  Mexican  or  American  troops  might  cross  the  border  to  pur- 
sue a  bandit.  Had  we  known  all  this  (and  it  should  have  been  reported 
to  our  consuls  all  together),  my  friend  wouldn't  have  been  quite  so  glad 
nor  quite  so  scared.  But  he  would  have  been  scared  some  and  some  glad, 
and  he  undoubtedly  still  has  some  hope  and  some  fear.  I'd  like  to  spread 
his  fear. 

The  careless  correspondents  with  Pershing's  careless  troops  describe 
what  they  see  on  Villa's  trail:  the  burning  alkali  desert  and  the  blazing, 
bareboned  mountains;  the  abandoned  villages  and  the  staring  old  men 
and  women  and  little  children  along  the  vacant  way.  I've  been  in  that 
country,  and  that  isn't  what  I  see  there. 

I  see  the  suspicious,  hateful  eyes  of  all  the  able-bodied  Mexicans,  men 
and  women,  watching  from  behind  distant  rocks  and  brush  the  passing  of 
our  soldiers,  watching  and  waiting  for  the  word  to  come  from  their  chiefs 
to  attack,  and  not  as  an  army;  not  yet;  but  one  by  one,  as 
snipers,  till,  having  found  out  how  well  they  can  shoot  and  hide 


536 


and  run — both  the  men  and  the  women — and  having  gathered  from  all  the 
climates  of  all  their  great,  wild  country,  they  can  pour  down  upon  our  few 
thousands  a  deluge  of  people,  mad  to  kill  or  die. 

For  the  Mexicans  are  not  afraid  to  die.  During  the  last  five  months  when 
I  was  in  Mexico  scores  of  them,  of  all  classes  and  kinds,  were  stood  up 
against  a  wall  and  shot.  I  never  went  to  see  "the  sight,"  but  I  questioned 
acquaintances  who  did,  and  no  witness  said  he  ever  saw  a  Mexican  quail  or 
even  flinch  before  the  rifles  leveled  at  his  breast;  not  one. 

A  war  with  Mexico  is  very  likely  to  be  a  war  of  extermination.  The 
people,  the  common  people,  all  go  to  war  there,  the  women  and  children 
along  with  the  men.  The  women  and  children  forage  and  do  the  camp 
work,  but  when  their  men  drop,  the  women  frequently  pick  up  the  rifles 
and  continue  the  fire.  So  the  Mexican  people  will  be  at  our  battles  with 
them.  We  can  get  at  them.  And  we'll  defeat  them.  Every  intelligent 
Mexican  I  ever  spoke  with  about  it,  admitted  that  in  the  end  we  would  be 
victorious. 

But  also  they  say,  and  the  Americans  who  know  this  people  say,  that 
before  the  end  we  shall  have  to  slaughter  the  Mexican  race  as  we  did  the 
Indians.  If  that  is  so,  I  say  that  our  victory  would  be  a  disgrace  to  us  and 
a  disaster  to  the  world,  and  that  the  men  and  the  interests,  American, 
Spanish,  Mexican,  British,  German,  and  Roman,  that  are  risking  such  a 
monumental  crime — they  can  not  have  thought  out  what  they  are  praying 
and  plotting  and  lying  and  paying  out  good  money  for. 

And  yet  that's  what  some  people  are  doing.  That's  what  my  friend 
was  hoping  for  in  Vera  Cruz.  That's  what  a  lot  of  foreigners  I  know  are 
hoping  and  praying  for  in  other  parts  of  Mexico:  Intervention,  and  the  wild 
hate  and  the  mad  war  it  will  turn  loose  up*on  us.  That  was  Huerta's  idea 
when,  in  despair  of  our  Government's  recognition  of  his  effort  to  set  up  an- 
other Diaz  regime,  he  tempted  President  Wilson  to  land  American  troops 
in  Vera  Cruz.  He  thought  the  Mexican  people  would  rise  up  as  one  man — 
no,  as  fifteen  million  men,  women,  and  children — and  kill,  rape,  or  rob  every 
American  in  Mexico,  and  then  go  on  into  a  war  upon  the  American  people 
— for  him. 

And  that's  what  Villa  or — since  Villa  doesn't  think  much — that's  what 
the  men  and  the  interests  back  of  Villa  thought  when  they  planned  that 
raid  into  New  Mexico,  and  drew  our  watching,  waiting  army  into  old 
Mexico  after — the  bandit.  They  thought  that  that  would  be  interven- 
tion, and  that  that  would  arouse  and  unite  all  classes,  tribes,  and  parties 
of  the  Mexican  people,  from  Carranza  down,  into  one  nation  to  fight  with 
Villa  against  our  people. 

It's  treason  we  are  talking  about:  international 
treason;  treason  to  Mexico  in  Mexico  and  treason 
to  the  United  States  in  the  United  States.  And  it's 
war  the  traitors  are  plotting.  With  the  picture  of 
Europe  before  them,  "bandits"  in  "barbarous" 
Mexico,  "citizens"  of  the  "civilized"  United  States, 
and  "subjects"  of  other  "Christian"  nations  are  for 
war  in  America! 

President  Wilson  says  so.    We  all  know  now  that 
that  raid  from  Mexico  into  New  Mexico  was  ex- 
pected on  our  side  of  the  border.    The  ammunition 
for  it  was  sent  from  here — to 
come  back  and  be  used  to 


537 


shoot  our  people.  The  border  newspapers  had  it  in  first-page  "spreads." 
American  soldiers  knew  and  spoke  of  it  two  days  before  it  happened.  And 
four  days  ahead  of  the  event  {he  State  Department  at  Washington  advised 
the  War  Department  that  it  was  planned  to  occur.  Now  President  Wilson 
has  the  information  of  all  the  agents  of  the  State  Department;  of  the  rep- 
resentatives in  Mexico  and  along  our  border  of  all  the  departments,  includ- 
ing the  secret  service,  which  is  very  strong  and  very  active  down  there.  He 
inquired  into  this  matter,  and  he  took  time  to  get  and  to  consider  all  the  in- 
formation available.  And  on  March  twenty-six,  after  two  weeks  of  inquiry 
and  thought,  he  said  in  a  public  statement  that  "there  were  persons  along  the 
border  actively  engaged  in  creating  friction  between  the  Government  of  the  United 
States  and  the  de  facto  Government  of  Mexico  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  about 
intervention  in  the  interest  of  certain  owners  of  Mexican  properties." 

The  President  of  the  United  States  would  not  make  a  charge. of  that 
nature  without  knowledge.  He  didn't  give  his  evidence,  but  he  must  have 
it,  with  names  and  dates  and,  possibly,  prices.  I  have  it  on  good  author- 
ity that  he  has,  and  that  he  is  to  be  asked  to  give  the  names  of  "the  sinister 
and  unscrupulous  influences  afoot"  to  bring  on  a  war  by  getting  some  care- 
less soldier  or  mob  to  kick  that  dynamite  of  hate  that  lies  all  over  Mexico 
where  our  soldiers  are  pursuing  "a  bandit."  I  hope  President  Wilson  will 
not  publish  those  names.  If  he  did,  the  American  people  would  demand 
that  those  men  be  shot  or  hanged,  and  when  that  was  done,  they'd  be  sated 

and  satisfied.  They  might 
never  care  to  know  then 
what  was  the  matter  down 
there. 

/(^i'^Lfe^      *  I   know   personally   and 

,  ^J&£Hi  well  some  of  the  Americans 

and  others  in  Mexico  and 

'  *  ™     along  the  border  who  want 

to  "bring  about  interven- 
tion." They  are  not  "bad 
men;"  not  "sinister  and  un- 
scrupulous." But  we  all 
know  or  knew  of  great  and 
good  men  who  are  for  in- 
tervention  or  almost 


"I    HOPE     PRESIDENT    WILSON 
WILL  NOT  PUBLISH  HIS  NAME." 


538 


anything  else  that  will  stop  the  Mexican  revolution.  There  is  Cardinal 
Gibbons  and  many  good  Catholics,  and  Colonel  Roosevelt  and  many 
politicians,  Wall  Street  financiers  and  business  men,  and  good  women  and 
— others.  What  is  it  that  makes  these  men  and  women  think  and  say  and 
do  treasonable  things  which  might  cause  a  bloody  American  war? 

I  went  into  Mexico,  the  beautiful,  last  fall  from  Eagle  Pass.  First  Chief 
Carranza,  with  his  cabinet,  staff,  and  troop-trains,  General  Obregon  and 
several  other  generals  with  theirs — the  de  facto  government  of  Mexico, 
which  our  Government  had  just  "recognized,"  had  come  down  to  the  bor- 
der at  Piedras  Negras.  The  government  on  wheels  was  about  to  roll  "all 
over  Mexico":  a  rare  chance  to  see  the  country,  the  people  and  their  lead- 
ers; so  I  asked  leave  to  go  along.  There  was  grave  wagging  of  heads. 

I  had  met  most  of  the  chiefs  just  a  year  before  in  southern  Mexico,  when 
I  went  to  Vera  Cruz  to  interview  them,  and  they  had  kept  me  dangling 
in  the  cafes  for  two  months.  I  had  represented  myself  as  a  writer  able  to 
understand  and  sympathize  with  the  stated  purposes  of  their  revolution  or 
with  any  other  effort  of  any  other  human  beings  to  solve  the  social  problem 
which  had  balked  us,  so  far,  in  the  United  States;  which  had  balked  all  men 
everywhere,  so  far. 

They  had  received  me,  finally,  in  Vera  Cruz,  and  they  talked  to  me, 
freely  and  fully,  but  hopelessly,  with  no  faith,  with  doubt  and  suspicion: 
Carranza,  Obregon,  Cabrera,  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  and  many 
other  chiefs,  big  and  little,  and  their  followers;  citizens  and  soldiers;  and  so 
did  their  opponents,  of  course:  Mexican,  American,  and  other  foreigners. 
That  long  but  sunny  visit  gave  me  a  pretty  good  sense  of  the  personnel, 
ideals,  and  the  conflicting  forces  of  revolutionary  Mexico.  I  got,  for  exam- 
ple, the  dregs  of  their  doubt  of  me. 

I  was  an  American,  and  therefore  incapable  of  understanding  the  strug- 
gle of  a  people  for  land  and  liberty!  Americans — they  said — "Americans 
from  the  United  States  have  a  mind  and  a  heart  only  for  law  and  order  and 
business." 

This  doubt  stood  on  the  bridge  at  Eagle  Pass,  barring  me  from  Piedras 
Negras.  It  yielded.  I  had  made  friends  meanwhile  in  New  York  and 
Washington  with  the  friends  of  the  revolution,  and  they  vouched  for  my 
"disinterested  interest."  And  they  won  at  last.  They  had  to  work,  but 
they  got  me  at  last  an  order  for  a  berth  in  General  Carranza's  train.  So 
I  went  along.  For  weeks  I  traveled  over  northern  Mexico,  in  that  slow- 
moving  train  with  the  First  Chief  and  his  cabinet,  his  staff,  and  the  veteran 
generals  and  young  governors  of  the  States  we  passed  through. 

War-wasted,  uncultivated,  treeless,  big  and  sunny — it  was  like  a  trip 
over  the  face  of  the  moon.  But  life  was  beginning.  We  stopped  at  every 


THE  RAIL- 
ROADS ARE 
IN  THE 
HANDS  OF 
THE  MILI- 
TARY. 


INTO  MEXICO 
AND— OUT/ 
539 


city,  town,  village;  at  every  considerable  group  of  peons.  Also,  the  First 
Chief  stopped  at  and  had  photographed  every  ruin:  factory,  bridge,  sta- 
tion, or  railroad  train.  And  they  were  many,  those  battle-fields.  But  we 
heard  and  we  could  see  that  the  people,  half-believing  that  peace  had  really 
come,  were  preparing  to  plant  and  work  and — function. 

At  Saltillo  I  quit,  and  ran  up  to  Mexico  City  to  get  the  other  side  of  the 
picture.  I  lived  three  months  in  that  ancient,  modern  old  Tory  capital 
among  my  own  countrymen  and  the  other  foreigners,  but  in  touch  also 
with  the  Mexican  critics  of  the  Carranzista  regime,  both  reactionary  and 
radical.  Then  I  dropped  down  to  Queretaro,  the  revolutionary  capital,  re- 
joined the  First  Chief,  and  made  with  him  and  his  government  another  long, 
slow  journey  through  rich,  fat  western  Mexico:  from  the  temperate  cli- 
mate of  the  plateau,  up  into  the  mining  regions  and  down  through  the  hot 
tropics  to  the  west  coast:  Irapuato,  Guanajuato,  Guadalajara,  Colima  to 
Manzanillo  on  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  back. 

It  took  a  month,  for  again  we  stopped  at  every  collection  of  people,  mu- 
nicipal or  rural.  And  here  also  life  was  resuming.  The  planting,  the  build- 
ing— all  the  activities  were  farther  advanced  than  in  the  north.  Mexico 
is  going  back  to  work,  leisurely  work,  but  with  that  sun  and  that  soil  and 
those  mines — productive.  No  government  can  stop  it.  Will  the  Carran- 
zista government  help  it?  What  about  that  government? 

The  Carranzistas  only  tolerated  me.  There  were  individual  exceptions; 
I  made  some  friends,  but  in  general  I  was  merely  suffered  in  those  trains 
all  those  three  months  of  travel.  So  were  the  two  to  five  or  six  other  Amer- 
icans who  from  time  to  time  were  there.  Not  that  we  were  not  properly 
treated  as  guests;  Mexican  hospitality  is  most  punctilious.  No,  we  Grin- 
gos shared  the  good  though  very  simple  fare  of  the  First  Chief  and  his 
cabinet.  Most  of  the  time  I  was  at  his  own  table.  We  were  sometimes 
forgotten,  but  we  were  always  welcome  at  the  fiestas,  receptions,  dances 
and  other  functions  in  the  towns  we  visited.  We  were  not  told,  but  in  the 
close  confinement  of  the  presidential  train  we  couldn't  help  knowing  a 
good  deal  of  what  was  going  on.  We  saw  our  hosts  at  close  range;  we 
heard  the  problems  and  the  policies  of  the  government  discussed,  some- 
times with  an  intimate  sense  of  the  differences  among  them.  But — and 
this  is  my  point,  which  I  want  to  make  without  the  slightest  implication 
of  reproach — I  was  not  treated  in  a  way  calculated  to  prejudice  my  judg- 
ment in  favor  of  the  Carranzistas.  And  this  is  my  judgment: 

Senor  Carranza  and  his  inner  circle  of  advisers  are  as  sincere,  as  honest, 
as  determined,  and — as  perplexed  a  group  of  radical  reformers  as  I  ever  saw 
(or  heard  of  or  read  about)  in  power. 

Which  is  one  reason  for  the  opposition  to  him. 

ONE  day  in  Mexico  City  a  big  American  concessionaire  was  damning 
Carranza.  I  remarked,  however,  that  he  didn't  put  dishonesty 
into  the  catalogue  of  his  faults. 

"Oh,  no,"  he  answered,  "he's  honest.  We  know  that."  And,  with  a 
laugh,  he  added:  "We  know  it,  because  we  tried  him." 

It  developed,  on  the  contrary,  that  Carranza's  tested  honesty  is  one  of 
his  faults.  If  he  were  dishonest,  "we"  could  do  business  with  him. 

There  is  dishonesty  in  the  Carranza  party;  lots  of  it.  The  stealing  and 
grafting  is  most  confusing.  But  it  is  petty,  and  my  experience  in  Amer- 
ican cities  suggests  that  it  is  inevitable.  When  you  break  down,  as  this 
Mexican  earthquake  has  done,  the  big,  orderly  system  of  regular,  "honest" 


EVERYBODY'S 

MAGAZI.VK 

540 


graft,  the  anarchy  of  petty  graft  takes  its  place.  The  universal  desire  for 
easy  money  is  freed,  and  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  go  to  stealing — • 
directly,  rawly — cash.  It's  a  stage  of  democracy  apparently.  Our  cities 
are  just  coming  out  of  it;  Mexico  is  having  just  now  her  Tweed  days. 

It's  disgusting  and  discouraging,  and  the  American  and  other  foreign 
critics  of  the  revolution  who  make  much  of  it  are  sincere.  Their  personal 
property  isn't  safe;  business  is  hampered;  even  transportation  isn't  safe. 
Shippers  have  to  pay  5,000  pesos  (bribe  or  tip)  for  a  car,  and  they  lose 
goods  in  transit  by  freight,  express,  and  mail.  It's  bad,  this  petty  graft, 
but  it  isn't  dangerous.  It  simply  can't  go  on. 

The  honest  Carranzistas  understand  this.  They  are  aware  of  the  steal- 
ing; they  speak  of  it  plainly.  "I  know,"  said  Mr.  Carranza  one  day,  when 
we  spoke  of  it,  but  he  added  in  his  patient  way:  "We  can't  deal  with  it 
yet."  And  another  participant  in  the  conversation  told  of  a  case.  Three 
thieving  officials  were  caught  red-handed  in  the  State  of  Vera  Cruz.  One 
night  they  were  put  into  jail,  to  be  shot  the  next  day.  But  the  next  day 
they  were  out,  and  their  next  appearance  was  in  full  uniform  on  the  staff 
of  a  general,  a  Carranzista  general! 

Mr.  Carranza  couldn't  touch  them  there,  nor  that  general,  either;  not 
yet.  The  First  Chief  is  only  the  first  chief.  He  is  not  an  autocrat,  as  his 
critics  seem  to  think  he  is,  or  should  be.  His  title,  the  phrase  which  is 
used  always  in  official  and  formal  documents  to  describe  his  position,  is 
the  "first  chief,  in  charge  of  the  executive  power."  Not  the  executive 
power.  Mexico  is  in  a  tribal  state,  like  Tammany  Hall  of  old.  There 
are  some  chiefs  and  generals 
whom  Carranza  has  himself 
appointed.  He  can  command 
them,  and  he  does.  Their 
power  is  his,  too,  and  he  has 
theirs  and  his.  Boss  Murphy 
can  dictate  to  the  ward  lead- 
ers he  has  "made."  But 
Murphy  couldn't  dictate  to 
Tim  Sullivan.  Tim  was  a 
self-made  boss;  he  owned  his 
own  ward;  and  so  he  was  an 
independent  chief  who  was 
"with"  Murphy.  So  it  is  in 
Mexico  at  present. 

Carranza  is  not  a  dictator, 
and  I  think  he  doesn't  want 
to  be.  He  shares  the  reaction 
from  Diaz,  which  is  violent 
and  well-nigh  universal 
among  the  Mexicans.  Only 
foreigners  want  another 
"strong  man."  The  First 
Chief  is  building  his  power 
slowly  but  steadily,  but  he  is 


SENOR  DON 
VENUSTIA- 
NO  CARRAN- 
ZA: GRAVE, 
SLOW,  SIN- 
CERE, "OB- 
STINATE." 


THE    PEOPLE 

WERE  THERE 

—AT    EVERY 

STATION. 


trying  to  build  it  democratically.  That  is  one  of  the  purposes  of  his 
travels.  He  is  going  all  over  Mexico  to  meet  his  people,  get  their  confi- 
dence, and  by  and  by  their  votes.  It's  like  an  American  political  campaign. 
Only  Carranza  does  not  make  many  speeches,  and  those  he  does  make  are 
short,  plain,  not  exciting.  He  is  no  demagogue. 

When  our  train  rolled  into  a  station  the  people  were  there  with  their 
band.  Every  community  in  Mexico  has  a  band.  And  the  band  played  and 
the  people  applauded:  they  didn't  cheer;  they  were  only  ready  to  cheer. 
But  Mr.  Carranza  would  walk  out  on  his  rear  platform,  look  a  long  minute 
at  the  crowd  until  they  became  still.  Then  he  stepped  down  among  them, 
and  stood  there,  silent  again,  silencing.  It  was  almost  dampening,  his  de- 
liberate long  silence.  Some  staff-officer  would  have  to  prompt  them. 

"Go  up  to  him,"  he  would  say;  "he's  your  Chief.  Tell  him  what  you 
want;  what  you  expect  of  him." 

Usually  it  was  a  woman  who  would  go  up  to  him  first — a  woman  who 
wanted  to  find  a  son  or  husband  that  had  gone  to  war.  The  jefe  would 
tell  some  officer  to  try  to  trace  the  man,  and  report  to  the  woman.  That 
would  start  the  men,  and  one  by  one  they  expressed  themselves  and  their 
needs.  And  their  needs  were  simple,  personal,  usually.  There  were  places 
where  some  local  chief  would  state  a  general  need.  At  one  village  a  woman 
said  that  the  community  land  had  not  been  restored  to  the  people.  Car- 
ranza turned  to  the  governor  of  that  State,  asked  him  why  not,  and  having 
listened  patiently  to  the  long,  technical  explanation,  told  him  gently  to  go 
ahead  and  do  the  thing,  and  "report  to  these  people  and  me." 

He  never  made  any  promises;  not  one.  He  never  harangued  at  all. 
When  the  village  or  city  put  up  a  speaker,  Carranza  listened;  no  matter 
how  long  the  oration  or  how  strong  or  weak,  he  was  patient.  And  once  in 
a  long  while  he  would  reply,  briefly,  plainly,  without  a  gesture  or  an  emo- 
tion. Usually  he  would  sign  to  some  cabinet  officer  or  other  to  speak  in 
his  stead.  And  the  effect?  So  far  as  I  could  make  out,  he  left  his  people 
impressed;  not  inspired,  but  impressed  with  a  quiet  sense  of  his  solidity, 
honesty,  and  loyalty.  And  he?  He  knows  his  people,  and  so  he  knows 
that  only  tune  will  make  them  free;  time  and  opportunities.  That's  why 
he  is  so  slow  himself  and  so  patient. 

He  has  feeling.  Once  a  few  people — not  a  dozen — stopped  the  train  to 
make  him  a  gift.  It  was  a  kid.  They  had  walked  miles  across  the  desert 
to  deliver  the  little  animal,  and  they  said  that  they  bought  it  by  taking 
contributions  from  all  those  that  had  come  to  fetch  it  to  him.  They  had 
put  in  a  few  centavos  each,  raising  thus,  say,  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  Car- 
ranza accepted  the  gift,  thanked  them,  and  then  turned  to  an  old,  old  wo- 
man who  had  stood,  listening  apart.  And  she  came  up,  frightened  but 
compelled,  and  she  explained  that  she  couldn't  contribute  to  the 
cost  of  the  kid,  and  so  she  wasn't  allowed  to  be  of  the  party  that 
brought  it  to  him.  Which  was  right.  But  she  wanted  to  give  him 
something,  too,  so  she  had  walked  also  across  the  desert,  to  give 
him — a  cabbage. 

Carranza's  eyes  started,  but  he  held  on  hard,  and  when  he  was 

sure  of  himself 

ne  accePte<i 
the  gift  and 
thanked  the 
woman  with 
simple  dignity. 


EVERYBODY'S 
MAGAZINE 
542 


To  a  democrat  it  was  discouraging  to  see  how  little  that  people  asked; 
how  much  they  wanted,  and  hoped  and  trusted;  and  how  dependent  they 
are  upon  the  good  faith,  the  understanding,  and  the  loyalty  to  them  of  their 
First  and  Last  Chief.  They  are  giving  all,  all  their  power  to  Carranza, 
and  he  is  going  around  collecting  it.  And  he  has  to  have  it. 

The  First  Chief  and  his  inner  circle  need  the  power  of  the  people  to  awe 
and  check  the  power  of  the  outer  circle  of  second  chiefs,  and  third,  and 
fourth,  and  his  enemies  and  Mexico's.  He  is  the  head  now  of  an  oligarchy; 
his  power  is  military;  it  is  made  up  of  the  powers  contributed  by  the  un- 
certain loyalties  of  generals  and  chiefs,  some  of  whom  (not  all)  are  not  revo- 
lutionists at  all,  but  only  able  individuals  out  for  individual  success,  not 
Mexico's.  Without  democratic  power  the  Carranzista  oligarchy  can  not 
deal  now  with  that  general  who  saved  the  three  thieves  of  Vera  Cruz. 
That  general's  army  is  his,  as  Villa's  was,  and  he  might  lead  it  into  the 
field  against  Carranza,  as  Villa  did  his,  with  foreign  financial  help. 

SO  MR.  CARRANZA  in  his  wisdom  (and  he  is  politically  wise)  avoids 
breaks  with  the  sources  of  his  oligarchic  military  power,  while  he  goes 
about  fondling  his  own  democratic,  political  power.  Everybody  is 
with  him  now,  or  pretends  to  be.  Military  power  brooks  no  free  speech, 
no  differences,  and  under  the  martial  law  of  revolutionary  Mexico  public 
opinion  seems  unanimous.  This  is  impossible.  It  can't  last.  Nature 
divides  men  into  at  least  two  parties,  conservative  and  progressive,  and  I 
could  see  everywhere,  north,  south,  east,  and  west,  in  the  cities,  in  the 
country,  in  the  clubs — yes,  even  on  Mr.  Carranza's  train,  this  line  of  de- 
marcation coming.  But  the  oligarchy  see  it,  too. 

"No,"  said  one  of  them,  "it  isn't  here,  not  yet,  but  it  is  coming.  We 
shall  divide.  But  not  yet.  If  it  came  now,  before  the  army  is  disbanded 
and  reorganized,  it  will  follow  military  lines,  and  we'll  have  to  fight  it  out 
with  bullets.  And  we  don't  want  another  civil  war  in  Mexico.  So  Mr. 
Carranza  wants  to  put  off  the  issue  till  some  great  civic  meeting,  like  the 
constitutional  convention.  Then  our  split  will  be  a  political  division  and 
can  be  fought  out  politically,  in  the  congress  or  at  the  polls." 

This  may  explain  something  Washington  has  never  seemed  to  under- 
stand: Why  Carranza  doesn't  grapple  harder  with  some  of  the  representa- 
tions of  the  State  Department.  It  may  explain  to  other  critics  why  the 
First  Chief  doesn't  tackle  more  vigorously  other  pressing,  practical  prob- 
lems, like  that  of  transportation:  he  can't;  the  railroads  are  still  far  from 
free  of  military  control.  And  it  certainly  leads  to  my  understanding  of 
some  of  the  reasons  why  this  clear-headed  statesman  puts  up  with  the 
shameless,  ludicrous  and  most  embarrassing  incompetence  and  petty  graft- 
ing of  his  crooked  subordinates,  high  and  low. 

Mr.  Carranza  and  his  inner  circle  of  advisers  are  planning  ways  and 
means  of  putting  a  stop  or  a  check  to  the  big  grafts :  the  great  mining  and 
oil  concessions,  and  the  enormous  land  grafts. 

And  that's  another  reason  why  there  is  such  a  desperate  opposition  to  him 
at  home  and  abroad. 

The  Carranzistas  have  a  theory.  They  think  their  theory  is  the  theory 
of  the  Mexican  revolution.  Their  theory  is  that  the  problem  of  civilized 
society  is  not  poverty,  but  riches;  that  the  solution  of  it  is  not  to  cure  or 
nurse  the  poor,  but  to  prevent  the  accumulations  of  enormous  individual 
wealth;  and  so  their  policy  is  to  find  out  and  close  up  the  holes  through 
which  most  or  some  of  the  products  of  labor  leak  through  the  workers, 


INTO  MEXICO 
AND— OUT/ 
543 


intellectual  and  physical,  into  the  possession  of — philanthropists.  Thus  it  is 
economic,  not  political  democracy  and  equality  they  are  working  for.  In 
a  word,  they  are  trying  to  change  the  rules  of  the  game,  their  game,  our 
game,  the  game  as  it  is  played  all  over  the  civilized  world. 

Which,  being  felt  and  not  credited  or  understood,  is  another  reason  for  the 
opposition  to  the  reconstruction  of  the  Mexican  revolution. 

One  day  in  Guadalajara,  Mr.  Silliman,  our  representative  then  with  the 
de  facto  government,  arranged  a  meeting  of  American  and  other  foreign 
business  men  there  with  Senor  Luis  Cabrera,  Carranza's  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury. 

The  purpose  of  the  meeting  was  to  give  the  business  men  a  chance 
to  state  their  grievances  to  an  official  with  authority  and  power  to  explain 
and  act.  And  they  expressed  themselves  one  by  one,  and  it  was  very 
disappointing;  natural,  typical,  but  discouraging.  As  Mr.  Cabrera  pointed 
out  to  them,  diplomatically  and  not  clearly,  each  man  spoke,  not  as  a 
friend  of  Mexico,  not  as  a  social  being,  but  as  a  craftsman :  the  banker  of 
the  difficulties  of  his  bank,  the  exchange  broker  as  a  broker,  the  miner  as 
a  miner;  and  not  of  their  big  problems,  but  of  the  particular,  petty  prob- 
lems of  that  week  or  month.  The  Government  had  erred.  That  he  grant- 
ed, and  he  explained  that  the  reason  they  had  erred  was  because  they  were 
not  experienced  statesmen  and  experts;  their  elder  statesmen  had  served 
the  privileged  class  and  been  driven  by  their  consciences  out  of  the  coun- 
try. The  new  government  were  citizens  new  to  their  jobs,  and  in  need  of 
broad  criticism,  technical  advice,  and  expert  assistance.  But  none  of  the 
gentlemen  present  had  offered  any  suggestions  that  could  be  used.  They 
all  were  under  the  delusion  that  the  Government  was  trying  to  reestab- 
lish the  old  order  of  things;  that  the  revolution  was  merely  an  accident 
and  interruption,  a  sort  of  disaster  or  debauch,  and  that,  since  it  was 
over,  the  thing  to  do  was  to  get  everything  going  again  just  as  it  was 
before. 

And  then  he  explained  that  that  was  not  the  idea  of  the  revolutionary 
Government;  that  the  Government  wanted  business  to  be  resumed,  but  on 
a  better  basis,  better  for  the  people  of  Mexico.  They  wanted  banks  to  be 
more  useful,  socially,  than  before,  and  not  to  make  so  much  money  for  the 
bankers.  And  so  with  the  other  lines  of  business.  How  were  the  railroads, 
the  mines,  the  shops,  to  be  got  to  perform  their  true  functions?  A  hard 
question.  The  Government  didn't  know  just  how  to  answer  it;  they  needed 
help,  but  couldn't  get  it  from  the  specialists,  because  the  banker  and  the 
broker,  the  merchant  and  the  miner,  seemed  to  think  that  all  that  was 
necessary  was  to  start  business  and  its  privileges  up  again. 

Mr.  Cabrera  wasn't  understood.  He  didn't  expect  to  be  understood.  He 
understands,  better  than  most  Mexicans,  that  it  isn't  only  Americans  and 
foreigners,  but  all  privileged  persons,  that  don't  see  any  wrong  in  privileges 
or  any  right  in  abolishing  them.  Privileges  pay.  Concessions,  cheap  labor, 
big  land  grants,  are  profitable.  That  settles  it.  This  is  one  view  of  the  priv- 
ileged. I  have  another  view.  I  tried  it  on  the  other  day.  I  met  an 
American  capitalist  who  ask  ^^  ed  me  casually  where  I  had  been  lately. 


DRAWN  BY 
CHARLES  SARUA  -X 


"In  Mexico!"  he  exclaimed,  all  interest.  "Well,  then,  maybe  you  can  tell 
me  what  the  deuce  they're  up  to  down  there.  I've  got  seven  or  eight 
hundred  thousand  dollars  in  a  hole  down  there,  and  I'd  like  to  know  what 
to  expect." 

When  I  had  told  him  what  they  were  trying  to  do  and  that  if  they  suc- 
ceeded he  might  lose  his  money,  this  wicked,  privileged  capitalist  said: 

"So  that's  their  game,  is  it?  Well,  if  there's  a  chance  of  their  winning 
out  on  it,  if  there's  one  chance  in  a  hundred  of  their  putting  that  over,  they 
can  have  mine." 

"But,"  I  objected,  "it's  precisely  you  and  your  crowd  that  are  spoiling 
the  one  chance  of  success." 

"I  know,"  he  answered,  "but  we  didn't  understand;  I  didn't  and  they 
don't." 

It  may  be  foolish,  but  I  believe  that  this  man  is  as  typical  as  any  other 
"American";  that  the  trouble  with  our  captains  of  industry  is,  not  their 
evil  disposition  but  their  "special  interests"  and  their  lack  of  understand- 
ing, and  that  that  is  the  cause  of  the  trouble  on  our  border  and — the  mat- 
ter with  Mexico.  And  it's  hard  to  understand. 

Carranza  and  his  party  are  on  the  job  of  reconstructing  a  state  of  society 
that  has  been  all  shot  to  pieces  by  a  long  and  a  pretty  thorough  revolution. 
Governments,  roads,  bridges,  factories,  whole  towns,  and  many,  many 
buildings  have  been  destroyed.  Only  some  old  false  ideas,  beliefs,  and 
hopes  are  left;  and  they  hinder.  But  the  revolution,  the  military,  the  de- 
structive process  seems  to  be  over;  it  is  over,  if  the  First  Chief  succeeds  in 
his  policy  of  staving  off  all  critical  acts  and  issues  till  they  can  be  fought 
out,  without  arms. 

But  the  effects  of  the  revolution  and  the  forces  set  free  by  it  are  felt  still. 
Men,  primitive  demons  like  Villa,  who  were  turned  loose  in  the  war,  are  at 
large;  many  of  them.  Villa  is  but  one  of  the  type.  Then,  too,  Indians, 
peons,  servants,  and  slaves,  the  descendants  of  a  high-spirited  race,  con- 
quered and  long  repressed  by  generations  of  force  and  kindness,  were  freed, 
armed,  and  told  to  "go  to  it."  And  they  went  to  it,  and  they  liked  it,  and 
they  are  reluctant  to  give  up  vice  and  leisure,  adventure  and  power,  to  go 
back  to  work.  Europe  will  have  to  deal  with  this  problem  when  the  na- 
tions turn  to  reconstruction  after  their  war.  Mexico  has  it  now.  She  has 
a  people,  a  whole  people,  who  have  tasted  liberty,  and  enjoyed  and  abused 
it.  For  practically  everybody  was  or  became  a  revolutionist.  And  all 
want  land  or  "something  for  nothing,"  and  only  a  few — comparatively  very 
few — know  or  remember  or  care  about  the  ideals  of  the  revolution. 

These  few  are  intellectuals.  The  practical  men,  being  practical,  were  in 
with  the  old  regime.  They  are  gone.  There  are  executives  and  organizers 
among  the  new  men,  but  I  noticed  on  the  train  that  these  were  instinctive- 
ly conservative,  and  therefore  not  fully  trusted.  So  the  radicals  come  to 
the  top  in  a  revolution;  the  visionary,  imaginative  minds;  and  close  after 
them  come  the  pretenders:  the  fakirs,  traitors,  demagogues,  grafters,  and, 
worst  of  all,  the  cunning  intriguers. 

The  revolutionists  are  not  all  acquainted  with  one  another  yet.    Sitting 


SUSPICIOUS, 

HATEFUL 
EYES 
WATCHING 
THE  PASS- 
ING OF  OUR 
SOLDIERS. 


545 


there  in  that  train,  watching  and  listening  as  a  spectator,  not  supposed  to 
understand  much  Spanish,  I  could  see  that  Carranza  and  his  inner  circle 
didn't  always  know  their  man.  They'd  give  a  tough,  technical  job  to  a 
good,  insincere  talker,  who  was  not  a  "doer"  at  all.  They'd  recall  and  I'd 
see  and  talk  with  "failures"  or  "crooks,"  who  never  should  have  been  ap- 
pointed. And  because  while  they  failed  or  grafted  they  had  "made 
friends"  and  influence,  they  couldn't  be  simply  discharged.  They  had  to 
be  promoted. 

The  consequence  was  things  that  "had  to  be  done"  were  often  not  done, 
or  badly  or  criminally  done. 

Which  is  a  reason  not  only  for  the  opposition,  but  for  the  misunderstanding, 
of  the  de  facto  government  by  their  "practical"  critics. 

AID  the  practical  men  themselves  have  a  right  to  be  understood.  They 
are  by  birth,  apparently,  naturally  concerned  about  keeping  things 
going.  Other  men  are  born  to  change  things  and  set  the  wrongs 
right,  and  these  innovators  have  their  part  to  play.  It's  an  important 
part,  and  the  world  is  slow  to  recognize  it  as  such.  But  "we  visionaries"- 
let  me  say  "we" — must  recognize  that  in  Mexico,  for  example,  it  is  a  serious 
matter  that  the  trains  don't  run  regularly  and  numerously  enough  to  carry 
milk  for  the  babies  and  food  for  the  people  generally  from  the  farmers  to 
the  cities;  that  the  miners  can't  get  their  bullion  out  and  the  merchants 
can't  get  their  goods  in;  that  there  is  no  money  to  trade  with  and  no 
credit;  that  there  is  hunger  and  disease  in  a  rich,  healthy  country.  That's 
what  the  practical  men  see  and  say  and  are  ready  to  fight  about.  And 
they  have  a  right  to  their  rage. 

But  the  visionaries  in  the  Carranzista  government  have  a  right  also  to 
be  understood.  They  have  everything  to  do,  and  all  at  once;  everything. 
And  at  the  same  time  they  have  everything  to  change  a  little,  and  all  at 
once.  In  the  United  States,  a  few  years  ago,  we  tackled  with  our  organ- 
ized government  the  railroad  problem,  and  we  devoted  a  couple  of  years 
to  settling  it,  and  then  didn't  settle  it.  Then,  here  a  year  or  two  ago,  we 
took  up  and  worked  long  and  hard  at  the  problem  of  banks.  Meanwhile 
other  things,  good  and  bad,  went  on  well  or  ill.  In  Mexico  that  small  group 
of  new,  sincere,  honest,  inexperienced,  but  "obstinate"  statesmen  have  the 
railroad  problem,  and  the  banks,  and  the  money  problem;  the  trusts,  the 
labor  problem  and  the  education  problem,  the  land  and  the  whole  agra- 
rian problem;  and  the  tariff  vs.  free  trade;  and  the  army,  which  they  have 
to  use,  reorganize,  and  disband  simultaneously;  and  a  government  to  set 
up,  city,  state,  and  federal — while  they  are  drawing  a  constitution  and  cre- 
ating courts  and  a  judicial  system;  and  all  the  while  they  are  expected  to 
chase  bandits  and  keep  order;  answer  the  half-dozen  representations  our 
State  Department  makes  every  day;  protect  Mexican  sovereignty  from 
our  and  other  foreign  governments'  vetoes  of  their  acts;  permit  our 
marines  to  land  at  Vera  Cruz  and  our  soldiers  to  come  hunting  bandits  in 
their  territory,  and  yet — and  yet,  keep  the  proud,  sensitive  Mexican  people 
from  resenting  our  border  and  Wall  Street  conspiracies,  resisting  our  in- 
vasions and  attacking  our  troops. 

THAT'S  a  bit  of  the  practical  job  the  revolutionary  government  of 
Mexico  has  on  its  hands.    That's  what  it  doesn't  do  well,  and  can't; 
not  yet.    And  that's  a  just  reason,  as  I  have  said,  for  the  impatience 
of  all  men  with  it.    But  there's  one  more  reason  to  consider. 


EVERYBODY'S 

MAGAZINE 

546 


With  each  one  of  these  practical  problems  goes  also  a  theoretical  prob- 
lem. With  the  problem  of  getting  a  currency,  goes  the  problem  of  getting 
a  money  that  is  not,  like  ours,  a  bank  privilege.  With  the  problem  of  re- 
opening the  banks,  presses  the  problem  of  opening  banks  that  have  no 
government  privilege  and  no  monopoly  of  credit.  With  the  problem  of  re- 
starting transportation  runs  the  problem  of  making  the  railroads  carry, 
not  exploit,  their  traffic,  and  of  keeping  the  railroad  men  running  the  trains 
and  not  the  state.  And  so,  while  they  want  to  reopen  the  mines  and  keep 
the  oil-wells  flowing  and  revive  agriculture  and  industry,  they  want  more 
of  that  wealth  to  stay  in  Mexico  and  to  go,  as  much  as  possible,  to  the 
people,  Mexican  and  others,  who  do  the  actual  work.  In  a  word,  they 
want  to  accomplish  the  purposes  of  the  revolution;  to  knock  out  "the"  sys- 
tem, and  develop,  not  a  rich,  cultured,  leisure  class,  but  a  well-to-do,  edu- 
cated people  with  very  general  opportunities  for  some  work  and  a  good 
deal  of  play;  and  no  fear  and  no  superstition. 

And  this,  this  is  the  chief  reason  for  the  opposition,  both  in  Mexico  and 
in  the  United  States  and  in  England,  Spain,  France,  Germany,  and  Rome; 
this  is  the  real  reason  why  there  are 
persons  all  along  our  border  and 
elsewhere  praying  and  plotting  and 
lying  and  paying  for  intervention 
and  war;  this — and  the  failure  of 
those  persons  to  understand  and  to 
believe  that  Carranza  and  his  inner 
circle  of  revolutionists  are  really  at 
work  on  the  foundations  of  "the" 
social  problem  with  a  chance — one 
chance  in  a  hundred — of  solving  a 
good  part  of  it  for  the  people  he  is 
pledged  solemnly  to  serve  and — all 
other  peoples. 

For,  of  course,  if  Mexico  solves  it, 
it  will  be  solved. 

President  Wilson  has  got  us  into 
Mexico  a  second  time.     He  got  us 
out  the  first  time.     He  may  get  us  out  the 
second   time.     The  third  time  may  b 
unlucky. 

He  has  shown  by  his  whole  Mexican 
policy  that  he  has  understood  what  they 
were  struggling  for  down  there  and  he 
has  trusted  us,  the  people,  to  understand 
why  he  has  stood  against  intervention 
and  its  consequences. 

Could  he  trust  us  to  understand  why 
he  did  not  make  war  if  our  troops,  sent 
there  again  and  again  to  pursue  bandits 
financed  in  the  United  States,  should 
be  attacked  by  the  "ignorant  Mexicans" 
who  might — misunderstand  our  philan- 
thropy? 

There  is  a  great  hope  and  a  great  danger 
in  Mexico. 


INTO  MEXICO 
AND— OUT.' 
547 


"SINISTER 
AND  UN- 
S  CRUPU- 
LOUS  INFLU- 
E  N  C  E  S 
AFOOT  TO 
BRING  ON 
WAR." 


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